


Razor Blade

by aingealcethlenn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, metaphorical harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aingealcethlenn/pseuds/aingealcethlenn
Summary: After a hunt, Dean heads to a local bar to see what he can find. A local girl walks in, with a reputation that the local barfly tries to warn Dean about.





	Razor Blade

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of stabbing/cutting (in a figurative sense, not literally! Like, someone “stabbing you in the heart” when your heart breaks kinda thing…)  
> Based on Luke Bryan’s Razor Blade
> 
> Word Count - 820

Sam and Dean had just finished up a job. Nothing overly difficult, just a low life demon. They sent the demon back to hell, took the vessel - who had fortunately survived the insistent - to the hospital, and finally headed back to their motel.

Sam had decided to stay in the room; all he wanted was a warm shower and a chance at sleep.  
Maybe even read a little.  
Anything to try to unwind after everything that had been happening lately.

Dean - on the other hand - decided to go check out the local nightlife.  
He wasn’t looking for anything more than a good time and an open door.  
_Maybe_ some decent music, and a dance floor so he could watch the ladies let loose.

Whiskey in hand, he scanned the floor. Taking in the sights, the sounds.

There were lots of beautiful women around, but none that really _pulled him in_. Turning back to the bar, he finished off his drink and signaled for another with a small nod and a beaconing motion.

As the bartender was about to leave, Dean couldn’t help but insist the bartender leave the bottle this time.

“Rough day?”

Dean looked next to him, seeing a man sitting there, not too much older than himself, but definitely grayer.

“You could say that,” Dean retorted, voice cautious.

Just then, the bar erupted into whistles and yells. Turning to see what all the commotion was about, Dean’s eyes landed on a _beautiful_ angel.

And no - before you ask - not the _fluffy wings_ type angel.  
But this woman could _easily_ pass as one in the Looks Department.

Her hair was flowing over her shoulders, like a brook over smooth stones.  
She had curves that could make a _backroad_ jealous.  
Piercing eyes that looked as if they could cut through _glass_.

The man sitting next to Dean just chuckled at his lax jaw and heavily-lidded eyes.

“I’d be careful with that one if I were you, sonny,” the man said into his drink. Dean could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

“And why’s that?” Dean retorted, with a smug grin pulling at his lips.

“Y/N there? She’s got a _special talent_.”

Dean’s smug look intensified slightly before becoming curious.  
“What kind of talent?” He heard himself ask.

“ _That girl_ will reel you in before you can even think of letting go,” the man said sagely, stirring his glass in his grasp with pursed lips. “You won’t be able to let yourself leave her be, even if you wanted to.”

“Sounds like a fun time to me,” Dean smirked, his cocky attitude showing once again.

“So you think,” the man looked at Dean, with a startlingly serious expression. “You aren’t used to playing by her rules though boy. Sure, you’ll try to sit here and play it cool. Doing your damndest not to look like a fool, but it’s too late for that now.”

Dean draws his attention back to the man sitting next to him, and gave him a dirty look, confused by the amount of mocking he was hearing now.

“You’ll want to see just how far she’ll let you go, and she’ll oblige. Letting you think you’re in control,” the man continued, staring blindly into his emptied glass. “I can see it already though, you’re blindfolded boy. Walkin’ south down those whiskey tracks. She’s headed north like a _neon bullet train_.”  
  
He chuckles again at Dean’s facial expressions as he sees the girl working her way toward where they were seated.  
“Think of her like a bolt of lighting,” he spoke - more to himself than anyone else. “Moving at the speed of light. You won’t realize you’ve been struck until you see the flames.”

“How do you know so much about her?” Dean finally asked - as he had heard what the man had said.

“I’ve been around here a long time, boy,” the man sighed. “I’ve seen that girl do a lot of damage.” The man flagged the bartender for another drink.

“Her smile’ll stab you in the heart, and then she’ll leave you sitting in the back of a bar - bleeding. You won’t feel no _real_ pain; her cut ain’t like a knife.” The man leisurely sipped his newly refilled glass. “Nah, that little look in her eyes? It’ll cut you just like a _razor blade_.”

Dean’s attention was drawn to the presence on the other side of him. Feeling a gentle hand placed on his thigh. He looked up into her eyes, alarmed, trying desperately to think of the right pick up line to try.

Before he can speak, she smiles at him and simply purrs, “Hello.”  
That was all it took. He was hooked, and she was reeling him in _effortlessly_.

The other man at the bar just smiled and chuckled to himself as he shook his head. Speaking more to himself than anyone else who might hear.

“I _tried_ to warn him.”


End file.
